


regret

by sunshine_captain



Series: Sentiment [3]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, Bitterness, M/M, Unrequited Love, bonded
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 15:14:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16915284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshine_captain/pseuds/sunshine_captain
Summary: Moment by moment, everything falls apart.





	regret

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this took forever. Like, such a long amount of time. I hope it's not terrible. I hope at least one person aside from myself remembered that this series exists. Anyway. Enjoy? (It's a painful situation and a painful fic, but if you love angst like I do....)

McCoy looked him over immediately after the pon farr (once Jim had slept for about fourteen hours straight, because as pleasant as the experience was, it was exhausting), but despite his constant nagging, Jim has yet to be given a thorough physical.

He's been avoiding it. He knows Bones will want to question him about the bond, probably extensively, and he hasn't wanted to deal with that. Bones trusts Spock but views Vulcans and their telepathic abilities with suspicion, mostly due to what that alternate, bearded Spock did to him. Jim understands. If that Spock had invaded his mind by force…. Jim still thinks he would trust _his_ Spock wholly. After all, he's physically harmed Jim before while under the influence of various outside sources, and he still trusts Spock with his life (and his mind.)

But then, Bones has a different friendship with Spock. And it is a friendship, despite what McCoy would say. He has different boundaries with Spock. That's just how they are with each other.

Jim finally gives in to McCoy's nagging and goes to Sickbay for his physical. He's put through his paces, every test it's possible to run is run, and finally they sit in McCoy's office with a bottle and a glass each and the part Jim feared begins: the interrogation.

“You're a damned fool, Jim, and obviously determined to shave ten years off my life with your nonsense.” McCoy's tone is grouchy, but Jim can read how worried he was, and still is, underneath the annoyance. That's mostly a front. _Mostly._

“I regret that, but everything is fine now.” He sips his drink. Everything isn't fine, actually; Spock hasn't spoken to him since his offer, with the exception of ship's business. He nudges gently at their bond. Spock's end is closed off. He isn't sending anything through.

Jim doesn't know how to do that with his end, and he wishes Spock would open his so he could feel him again. He’s had his end shut since a couple weeks after the pon farr. Jim frets, knows Spock will feel his discontent through the bond if he pays attention, and doesn't feel that guilty about it.

“Is it? How are you doing? As far as I can tell, there's no measurable change in your brain chemistry. Not one a machine can pick up, at any rate.”

“I'm fine. Better than fine. The bond is good, Bones. There are no drawbacks or negative effects.”

“And what are your feelings being married to our favorite computer? Permanently linked to his mind. I'm worried about what it might do to you, Jim, long term. Humans weren't meant for that. We're a mostly psi null species.”

“Some humans were,” Jim says, lips curling into a smile, thinking of Amanda, of himself. “I'm fine. I don't mind being bonded to Spock. In fact, I kinda like it. A _lot._ ” 

“You like it.” McCoy's eyebrows go higher. “You've seemed remarkably content and at ease being bonded to Spock. I couldn't possibly guess why.”

Jim laughs a little and sips his drink, but then he realizes Bones isn't laughing, and in fact he's looking at Jim quite seriously. He puts his glass down. “What are you implying?”

“What do you think I'm suggesting?” 

“I'm not sure,” Jim says carefully.

“I'm wondering whether you might not have some feelings for Spock you just don't want to acknowledge.” He steamrolls onward even as Jim's eyes get bigger in surprise. “What you did for Spock, it was to save his life. In the moment, when he's on the verge of dying, when he's laying in front of you suffering, I know you'd do that for most people you care about, myself included. But it's the aftermath of the whole thing that's been puzzling me, Jim. I expected you to have at least somewhat mixed feelings about having a permanent mental connection with Spock. But you've been so happy, almost,” he makes a face, like it pains him to say it. “Glowing.”

“My answer is no, Bones. I'm not in love with Spock. I think I'd know it by now if I was, with what we have between us. I know it's hard for you to imagine, that you're uncomfortable with the thought of the mental intimacy between bondmates, but it's beautiful.” It's a massive oversimplification, but there's no way that he can easily put into words the grounding, the happiness, the satisfaction that comes with being so intimately connected to Spock. 

It seems strange to Bones. Jim doesn't have room for romantic love in his life. His love, and life, are the Enterprise. He loves Spock, as a friend and a brother, and though there's no romantic facet to his love, Spock is…. He completes Jim in so many ways. He balances Jim, in command and in personality, and if it's possible to be completed and fulfilled by somebody else in a non-romantic sense, then that's what Spock is to him.

That's true, but Jim feels the current distance between them acutely. Spock hasn't interacted with him beyond official ship's business since Jim proposed they have an ongoing sexual arrangement.

Jim wishes Spock would at least open his end of the bond again. He misses feeling Spock through it. 

“Okay, so you're flourishing. What about Spock?” Bones asks abruptly.

“Isn't that a conversation you need to have with Spock?” He really doesn't want to discuss this with McCoy, when he's having enough trouble dealing with Spock's distance by himself.

“I would, if he wasn't avoiding me even harder than you were.”

“Spock’s been avoiding you?” Jim is more than dismayed. Spock is cutting himself off from everyone. Both of his friends. 

“He damn well is. Every time I try to arrange to see him, he’s conveniently working on a ‘sensitive’ science project that can’t possibly be disturbed. When I tried to drag him in under the pretense of a physical, he had M’Benga do it!”

Jim downs the rest of his glass and stares down at it, circling the edge of it absently with a finger. Spock won’t talk to McCoy, he won’t open the bond so that Jim can feel his emotions. He doesn’t want to have sex with him. Maybe he was telling the truth when he said Vulcans don’t have sexual needs outside of pon farr.

He almost asks McCoy, but decides against it when he notices the way Bones is studying him, eyes slightly narrowed. No. He’s already got some theory that Jim is secretly in love with Spock. No need to add fuel to the fire by making him aware he suggested to Spock that they continue to have sex. And was then shot down.

Sighing, Jim rises and makes his excuses. He needs to find Spock.

*

Spock is in his quarters, at his comm unit. He evidently just completed a call; Jim hears the muffled sound of his voice through the door, but by the time Spock tells him to enter, the screen is dark and he’s rising from his seat in front of it.

“Captain, do you require something?”

Spock is still in his uniform, and using his title. Jim deflates a little. That isn’t what he wants.

“Just to see you, Spock. We haven’t played chess for a while. I thought you might want to have a game?”

Spock won’t open the bond, he won’t discuss the events that led to it with anyone, and he hasn’t reached out to Jim in any way. Maybe what he wants is just to go back to what they had. Their friendship, their effortless camaraderie.

Jim will act like nothing ever happened. He’ll pretend he can’t feel Spock in his head, at least a sense of his presence even if his thoughts and feelings aren’t coming through.

“That is agreeable, Jim,” Spock allows. “I will meet you in your quarters momentarily.”

Jim heads through their shared bathroom and starts to set the board up, already anticipating his opening move. 

Spock joins him in a few minutes, as promised, and they start playing. Jim tries to keep his mind and eyes on the game, but it’s difficult; this is the first time he and Spock have had a quiet moment together in so long, and he keeps glancing up at Spock, who seems to be concentrating on the board. All he can think about is Spock in the throes of passion, and damn it, he promised himself he would behave, be normal, but all he can think of is what they did, how Spock felt, and his traitorous body is responding.

“Is everything well, Jim?”

Spock says _Jim_ but Jim hears—

_“Ah, J-Jim...beautiful...taluhk….taluhk nash-veh k'dular...mine,” Spock’s words breathed into his ear, his searing hot touch on Jim’s throat, his thigh, his adoration and desire to make Jim his overwhelming through the bond._

Jim shivers. The memory is so overwhelming, he knows there’s no chance Spock hasn’t caught wind of what he’s thinking. One glance at Spock’s wide eyes and he knows he’s right.

“Spock—“ _I’m sorry,_ he wants to say, but Spock’s iron control has faltered, the bond is fully open, and in that instant it goes both ways.

_Jim is so beautiful, shining and powerful and all his, his beloved dynamic captain, so good to him, gasping, “Yes, Spock, yes.… So good, just like that,” as Spock claims him, and it’s everything he’s ever wanted._

There’s longing, so powerful it leaves Jim absolutely breathless, and desire, and so much love. Completely apart from that, there’s regret, and guilt, and exhaustion.

Jim feels like he’s choking on air, so intense are Spock’s emotions. It only lasts for a mere moment, and then Spock has reined himself in and the transference is gone. Spock’s eyes are closed as he breathes deeply in controlled calm.

“Spock,” Jim whispers, reaching out to him. He can’t help it, he has to comfort him, Spock is _suffering,_ and it’s his fault. “Spock, let me help you. Please.”

He’s desperate, and it’s probably clear in his voice. It’s almost a repeat of the last time he touched Spock, when he offered to have an ‘arrangement’ with him, friends with benefits of a sort, but this is different. He just wants to help. Spock is hurting.

“I cannot allow that,” Spock says harshly, pulling his hand away, just like before. “Have I not made myself clear, Jim?”

Stubborn Vulcan! Jim tries a different tack. “How long has it been since you slept, Spock?” Spock is visibly caught off guard, and he pursues it ruthlessly. “I _felt_ how tired you were, so don’t try to dodge the issue. You haven’t been speaking to Bones, you haven’t had any physicals, either, and I know why now. You don’t want him to know you’re exhausted. Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“You humans are foolish.” 

“I’ll order you to rest, if I must.” He’s standing firm. “I want to keep this between us as friends, but if I need to say it as your captain, I will.”

“I do not need rest. I would like you to leave me now.”

“Spock—“

“Leave me!”

Jim is shocked. Spock raised his voice, shouted at him. The only time he's ever done that before, he was always under the influence of spores, or the pon farr. This, now, it's just Spock. He's angry, he's hurting, and it's all Jim's fault.

"You closed the bond," Jim says suddenly. "Only a short time after we took care of your pon farr together. It was open for a while, and I could feel you, Spock. I _felt_ you." He pauses, remembering what it was like to have Spock in his head, his interest as he studied something through his viewfinder on the bridge, the peace and contentment as he meditated. Jim loved it. Now, there's almost nothing where Spock was, a walll. "I miss feeling you, it was nice to have that closeness to you. Won't you at least open your end again?"

"No."

"Can you even feel me any more?" Jim asks unhappily. He's assumed that Spock still could, since he doesn't know how to close the bond on his end, but maybe all his frustration, his pleas through their link for Spock to just let him in, have gone unheard.

"Can I feel you?" Spock stands up, fury and naked despair mingling on his face. "I feel everything you send, Jim, every time you beg me to open to you, every time you think of me with desire—when I sleep, I share your dreams."

That's the reason Spock isn't sleeping. Because of him. Spock's suffering is all because of him. Jim feels like he's going to throw up, remembering the dreams he's had since they bonded. Many of them have starred Spock, some of them actual events from the pon farr, some of them wholly created by his mind. And Spock had to witness all of them. No wonder he isn't sleeping.

"I'm sorry," Jim says bleakly. It's not enough, but it's all he has to offer. "Spock, I had no idea. I'm _sorry._ "

"As am I." Spock turns his back on Jim and moves towards the door.

"Spock, you can show me how to close my end of the bond, can't you? If you teach me, then I'll stop. And the dreams, isn't there any way to stop them?"

"There is no way to stop the shared dreams short of getting rid of the bond, but it cannot be severed as a premarital bond can." 

“Then you can teach me, so that at least while I’m awake you won’t have to hear my thoughts or feel my emotions.” 

“No, Jim. I will not. _Kaiidth._ ”

“Spock—“

“I will not enter your mind again. If I did, I do not know if I would have the strength to leave it.” Spock’s lips are pressed tight together at this admission of weakness. “There is nothing to be done now.”

He exits, leaving Jim wondering what Spock left unsaid.

*

Their professional relationship isn’t affected. They do their jobs, and they do them well. If Jim asked Spock, he might say that their efficiency is down by a small percentage, but Jim doesn’t ask, because he doesn’t want to know.

“Captain!” Spock’s shout is Jim’s only warning before the Zarathusians are throwing incendiaries at them. He's tackled by Spock, his heavy Vulcan body carrying them down to the ground.

Spock rolls off of him in an instant, crouching protectively over him with his phaser drawn while Jim recovers. It takes only seconds for Jim to scramble up and kneel by Spock's side. Shoulder to shoulder, they fire and stun the aggressive aliens, then make a break for a nearby cave system.

"I believe it will be only 4.2 minutes until Mister Scott locates us and transports us back aboard the Enterprise." Spock stands and watches as Jim leans against the cave wall to catch his breath.

"Excellent reflexes, Mister Spock," Jim says with a grin as he straightens.

"Indeed, superior to yours, Captain," is Spock's response.

For one playful moment, like so many other moments they've shared, in the shadow of danger and in safety, Jim forgets that anything is different and reaches out to pat Spock on the shoulder.

Spock steps away, smoothly evading his touch, and just like that he remembers everything that's happened between them and he too turns away, pacing deeper into the cave to await their rescue.

Later, back aboard the Enterprise, Jim seeks refuge with McCoy. The whiskey isn't strong enough, but it will have to do.

"Jim, I don't get any joy from this, but," Bones hesitates.

"Don't you dare tell me I told you so," Jim leans back in the decidedly not regulation chair McCoy has in his quarters. "I don't want to hear it. I know you've been waiting for the other shoe to drop since the first time you learned we were bonded."

"That's not true, and you know it, Jim. I wanted the best for you and Spock and always have. I just didn't think it was all gonna go as smooth as you figured, and it didn't. Spock's got somethin' in his head, and it's driving the two of you apart."

Jim laughs bitterly. "Yeah, he has something in his head, alright. Me. He doesn't want me there, it's too painful, since he knows I don't share his feelings, but he won't teach me to keep things to myself, and he won't let me help."

Bones raises his eyebrows, looking like he wants to ask how Jim has offered to help exactly. Jim considers telling him, but pushes his glass across the table for a refill instead. He doesn't want to get into it.

The fact of the matter is, he's lonely. It's been months since he's felt the touch of anything but his own hand. Months since _Spock_. He can’t help but return in his thoughts to the pon farr, remember how gentle Spock was with him, the adoration he poured into Jim the entire time. And okay, he wants that again. It’s selfish, but isn’t it human? Part of him wants to experience again even a fraction of what turned out to be the best sex of his life. He loved feeling so loved.

It’s selfish. It’s so horribly selfish. Jim hates that he wants Spock, but can’t love him the way that Spock loves him. He’d give everything he is to Spock, if Spock would let him. He wants Spock to be happy, and he can’t make him happy.

Jim could seek someone else out for companionship, of course, but everything in him rebels at the thought of being with a stranger when he and Spock are bonded. Mentally tied together.

It’s more than that. He just misses _Spock._ Misses his friendship, his companionship. He has him as an officer, a second in command, but that’s all. Spock as a person has completely removed himself from Jim’s life and it hurts.

Jim stares at the glass McCoy pressed into his hand and finds that he’s lost all desire for it. Damn Spock and his Vulcan biology ,and damn this bond for coming between them. “Fuck. Never knew I could fuck things up this bad, just by saving his life.”

“You did what you could, what you thought was necessary, just like always.” Bones sighs and offers Jim a glass of water instead. “Things might turn around once you get out on the next five year mission. Maybe Spock will get the stick out of his ass by then.”

Jim sips the water, staring down at the deck and trying not to hope.

*

“Commander,” Jim greets Spock formally as Spock enters and stands in front of his desk. “You’ve neglected to file the paperwork for your recommission after the five year mission ends. We reach Earth in two days. Don’t tell me you’re leaving it until the last minute?”

His weak attempt at a joke falls flat. Spock stares straight ahead, at a point somewhere above his head.

“Negative, Captain. I have not filed the paperwork because I have no intentions of continuing in Starfleet after the mission ends.”

It’s what Jim has been secretly afraid of all along, terrified to acknowledge the possibility of Spock leaving, even to himself. He hasn’t even wanted to call Spock into his office to discuss this. It’s why he’s left it so late.

“What’s the meaning of this, Spock?” He’s standing up, voice rising. Jim can’t stand it. Spock? Out of Starfleet? Preposterous. “You’re going to throw away your career of almost two decades? Where will you go? What about the Enterprise?” _What about me?_

“I will return to Vulcan. I presume the Enterprise will be in good hands under your command on the next mission, Captain.”

“Have you thought this through?” Jim paces around the desk. “Why not go to San Francisco, teach at the Academy and consider it for a while? Don’t make any hasty decisions.” If he could at least get Spock Earthside, make him take time to consider his decision….

“I have given the matter plenty of thought. I have been planning to leave Starfleet for approximately seven months, Jim. My decision is made.”

Seven months? Since just after the pon farr. “Seven months, and you never mentioned it to me? Never asked me what I thought?” Fuming, Jim faces Spock.

Spock regards him blankly. “I saw no need to consult you on decisions about my life.”

"That's not fair, damn it, Spock! It can't just be about what you want," Jim yells, aggravation getting the best of him. "We're bonded, tied to each other, and you haven't even considered what I want! Sometimes, you make me regret helping you through your pon farr."

As soon as the words are out, Jim wants to cram them back in. It's not true, not the way it sounds. The alternative to bonding with Spock was having him _die_ , and that was never an option, not for a moment.

That's what it sounds like, though. It sounds like he resents Spock for bonding them, and he does in a way, for the way Spock has treated him since. Blocked him out, pushed him away, rebuffed Jim's offers of companionship at every turn. They could have made so much more of this than just a bonding of convenience.

Spock physically flinches at Jim's words, and turns even stonier than before, if that's possible. "I see. Then it is for the best that I leave."

"Where....where will you go?"

"I will go to Gol, and undergo Kohlinahr." 

Dread rises in Jim at the sound of that word. It sounds dangerous. He doesn't want to know. 

He has to know. "What is Kohlinahr?"

"It is the Vulcan ritual of purging all emotion."

He feels sick, thinking about it. Spock, gentle, curious Spock; without emotions? It’s absolutely horrible to contemplate. Jim has never met a Vulcan truly without emotions. Some are more controlled than others, and do not display emotions in public, but he’s always known (since Spock, anyway) that they have them.

“Spock?” He sounds hurt, and he hates that, but where is this coming from? “Why do you want to undergo Kohlinahr?”

“It will enable me to sever all emotional ties to my life prior to Kohlinahr. It will also break all mental bonds, familial and otherwise.”

Suddenly, it all makes sense. Spock can’t stand being bonded to him any longer. It’s too painful for him, being in love with Jim and mentally connected to him. He’s going to take this step, undergo this monumental, presumably irreversible change, so that he doesn’t have to love Jim anymore.

No more emotions. No more love. No more bond, no more shared dreams, no more being forced to feel Jim every moment, waking or otherwise.

Spock is trying to protect himself. He’s desperate enough to do this that he’ll make it so that he’s incapable of feeling love for anyone, his mother or father. 

Jim is such an idiot. He drove Spock to this point. Spock had been living with his love for Jim for years, and they were okay. Now, with the formation of the bond between them, he’s ruined their friendship and driven Spock to the point where the only thing he can think to do is destroy himself.

“I think it sounds like doing this is the biggest mistake you’ll ever make,” Jim says roughly, barely able to get the words out past his rising nausea. “We can fix this, Spock. I can learn how to turn off my end of the bond, you can teach me—“

“I will not meld with you again,” Spock growls. “Have I not made that clear again and again?”

Shit, that hurts. He tries not to let it, but it does. “Someone else can teach me! Another Vulcan, any that you want. I can learn how not to send stuff to you.” His desperation is getting the better of him, he should have taken action before, found another Vulcan, he should have _done something._ He never thought…. Jim just kept thinking, later, we’ll fix it later, give him time. “We can deal with this, together! We’ll go back to how we were before. It’ll be like nothing ever changed!”

Spock turns his back, heads for the door. “No, it would not, Captain.”

The message is clear: conversation over. Spock is leaving, and in all likelihood Jim will never see him again. He rarely has duties that require him to journey to Vulcan, and if Spock really does rid himself of his emotions, it doesn’t seem like he’ll be heading for Earth anytime soon to see Jim.

Jim can’t help himself; he doesn’t believe in no win situations. He has to try one more time, he always has to give it one more shot. He grabs Spock’s arm.

He’s not strong enough to stop Spock if he really wants to leave, but Spock humors him one more time and stills.

“Don’t leave. Please.”

He can’t picture his future without Spock. Since he met him, his image of his life to come has always included Spock. Even what he pictured himself doing while the Enterprise was being refitted, he figured he’d teach at the Academy for a while and Spock would be right there, in his life, at his side, always. He never thought for a second that Spock would _leave_.

“I _am_ sorry, Jim.”

Those are the last words Spock says to him. Two days later, they reach Earth Spacedock, and in the time between, Spock manages to avoid being alone with Jim, or even on the same shift as him.

When they beam down to Fleet headquarters, there’s press everywhere, and admirals waiting to debrief each senior member and department head of the crew. Spock disappears into one chamber, and Jim enters another to find Admiral Nogura waiting for him.

“Captain Kirk,” he greets him, grinning widely. "Our wayward golden boy, returned at last."

Jim doesn't say anything. He's exhausted, emotionally and physically, and the Spock shaped hole in his life is eating him up. He's in no mood to banter with the admiral; all he wants to do is find out when they're sending the Enterprise back out.

Then the admiral drops a bomb on him; the Enterprise is being decommissioned, and they're offering Jim a desk job, head of operations, a posting that will have him stuck firmly on Earth.

No more exploring, no more adventures. No more discoveries or first contacts.

No more crewman deaths on his conscience, no more accidentally poisoning newborn cultures.

What's the point of going back out, anyway? Spock is going to Vulcan, to become a shell of his former self, and Bones told him two days ago he's thoroughly sick of space and settling back down in Georgia.

Without his best friends at his side, life in space would be empty and lonely.

Nogura's smile has faded, and he's looking slightly worried as the silence stretches. "Kirk, are you okay? You look a little ill."

Spock is lost to him, and McCoy won't go back out there even for him. Everything that matters to Jim is gone. Even his silver lady is being taken from him. If he went back out, it would be in another ship.

"I accept the promotion." The words taste like bile in Jim's mouth, but he stretches a hand out to shake Nogura's anyway.

He makes his excuses after that and exits, hoping against hope that he'll catch Spock in time to— what? Humiliate himself again by begging Spock to stay? Why would he want to? What can Jim offer, besides his body and his friendship, things which have already been proven to be not enough?

Spock is leaving, he's already left Jim in every sense but physically, and it's probably for the best that he's already gone when Jim gets back out into the main corridor to see the room Spock was in standing open and empty.

McCoy is there of course, waiting for him. He slaps Jim on the back, beaming, no doubt already imagining a rocking chair beneath him and a mint julep in his hand. "How long before you ship back out?"

"Never," Jim says flatly, in no mood for anyone's questions.

"What?" McCoy stops in shock. When Jim keeps going without him, he hurries after him and grabs his arm, halting him. "What do you mean, never?"

"I mean what it sounds like, Bones. I'm done. Grounded. Promoted to admiral and head of Fleet ops."

"Jim, you-- I know the Enterprise is being retired, but there are other ships--"

"Other ships, yeah, but I won't be on them."

"Have you told Spock about this idiocy? He can't agree that this is the best thing for you."

"Spock is gone, Bones."

"Gone? Where?"

Right. He didn't tell McCoy. Jim has been so lost in his misery that he forgot. "Back to Vulcan, to undergo some god forsaken ritual to erase his emotions."

McCoy is staring at him in disbelief, his grip on Jim's arm becoming painful. "He's what? And you didn't think to let me know? Why did he....you just let him go?"

"I didn't _let_ him do anything. He's a grown man, his own person. I couldn't stop him." Jim pulls free of his friend's grasp and continues down the hall. The longer he waits to leave the more time the press has to gather. 

Bones pursues him again, getting in his way. "You damned cotton pickin' fools! This is because of the bond, isn't it? You two couldn't work it out, so now Spock is running back to Vulcan like a coward, and you just sat back and let him go! Damn it, Jim!"

"Don't you dare," Jim growls, hands curling into fists. He's had enough. Bones is his best friend but he doesn't know, doesn't understand. "Just stop. You think I wanted him to go? He didn't say anything to me until it was too late. I begged him to stay, and he just walked out. He....he's gone, and soon he won't be the Spock we know. It's over."

He pushes past McCoy, ignoring his stricken face, and stalks out of the building. Reporters surround him, clamoring for sound bites, but he brushes them off as he heads for his new lodgings.

The fact that Spock will be unable to keep out his anger and loneliness brings him vindictive pleasure. Spock can keep his own feelings locked away, but he can't block out Jim.

Why wasn't their friendship enough? Why wasn't _he_ enough? If Spock had just let him be enough….

If Spock hadn’t left. If Spock was at his side where he belonged.

If.

If Jim hadn’t saved Spock's life only to destroy everything they shared.

**Author's Note:**

> taluhk nash-veh k'dular- in all likelihood it needs no translation, but it means "I cherish thee" in Vulcan.


End file.
